


Does That Seem Right To You?

by wedjateye



Category: Firefly
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-10
Updated: 2010-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-12 13:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/125439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wedjateye/pseuds/wedjateye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why did Jubal Early lick that pole? Character study written for Slodwick's worst case scenario survival handbook challenge. Creepy. Implied violence to both animals and a child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Does That Seem Right To You?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
|   
---|---  
|   
  
Here I am, Early muses. This is the dumbest thing I've ever done. I've got to get off  
this porch before Mama comes home or I'm gonna catch it for sure.

Early gives an experimental tug. Stops when the pain of it flares in new, sharp ways that  
almost bring tears to his eyes. Early doesn't cry.

He can hear his mother's voice already – all scritchy with worry and exasperation. "Jubal,  
you are by far the most troublesome child God ever put on this here moon." She'll  
probably yank him inside and head straight for the utensil drawer, the one where her  
favourite wooden spoon lives – all charred and worn from stirring pots full of stew for so  
many years, but still sturdy enough to pack a wicked sting.  She'll stop that quickly  
enough if Early blubbers a bit – but Early doesn't cry. Not ever.

Ignoring her explicit instructions is never entirely safe, even if Early is a very  
accomplished liar for his age. For any age really. Lately Mama has that look in her eye  
more and more. Pained and wary. She'll listen to his excuses but she no longer hugs him  
tight after he explains away his latest misadventure. She's more likely to tell him he talks  
too much. That some say that's a flaw and maybe he should spend a bit of quiet time in  
his room. Let her get a bit of peace and relaxation every once in a while.

He just had to know what was going on. Had to sneak onto the porch, despite the subzero  
temperature. This would be his only chance. Because his Mama wouldn't have gone out  
into heavy snow like this unless she was fixing on them running again. And for the first  
time ever, Early has a shot at figuring out why.

It has to have something to do with the big man who turned up yesterday, hollering and  
hammering hard on their bolted front door. His mother merely leaned back against it,  
cheeks streaming, flinching at the louder reverberations. Early went to his room without  
arguing when he saw the fierce determination on his Mama's face. That look boded ill for  
any who crossed it.

Spurred on by the memory of his Mama's expression, Early braces himself with both  
hands and pulls again. Hard as he can. Ignoring the tearing sensation, clamping his lids  
shut in refusal of the pain. Metallic tasting blood fills his mouth, trickles to reach the  
back of his throat. Panic spikes like a signal flare in his mind. Early instinctively pushes  
forward again. He suppresses his coughs and leans his forehead against the biting cold,  
bringing his breathing back under control.

"Show him to me you whore!" was the only intelligible thing Early picked up before the  
ruckus was muffled by the long hallway back to his tiny bedroom. That and a string of  
inventive curses he filed away for later use.

'Has to be,' Early tells himself – ain't no other explanation. He'd thought he could tell for  
sure, if only he could get close enough to the metal railing the stranger had latched onto;  
swaying in his fight against gravity and probably the 'hard liquor' Mama always  
haughtily sniffs at whenever they pass someone unsteady near the saloon.

It has only been a day – the essence of the man has to linger here. Early was so sure, so  
desperate for the knowledge that he could almost taste it before he touched the tip of  
his tongue to the spot. Before the iciness trapped him. Before he realised his mistake.

In his dismay, he lost the thread, the precious molecules left behind by his probable  
Father. The answer to the question his mother sometimes whispers just out of earshot –  
"Where did you come from Jubal; why is there such darkness in you?"

Frustrated, Early clenches his gloved hands hard around the pole. He can do this. In  
another minute he's just going to rip his tongue free. It doesn't matter how much blood  
there is. He's seen worse. Done worse. Just not to himself.

"Jubal, did you do something to Eliza's cat?" His mother's voice had wavered with fear  
he had never heard before. Not even when they had no food, or place to stay, and she was  
hiding Early in a dark alley while she went and did God knows what so they could  
survive. "Jubal, I know you liked… petting it. Did you touch it in a wrong fashion?"

"No Mama. I never." Early perfected wide eyed innocence when his first ever pet, a  
brown and white mouse, somehow got crushed between the dresser and the wall. Maybe  
perfected isn't quite true, because Mama never did get around to replacing that rodent.

Early doesn't want to have to run again. He likes it here. Likes the neighbours, who are  
too thick to think ill of any child with an open smile on their face. Likes the open yards  
with their big shaggy dogs. Like the golden retriever next door. Stupid mutt has more  
sense than its owner – growling at Early when he gets too close. Getting Mrs Lee all  
flustered about reassuring his Mama that Sandy has never hurt a flea and certainly won't  
bite. Mama's face got all scrunchy and she waited until they were inside before telling  
Early he'd stay away from that dog or else.

He can still hear her angry response to him back-talking, stunned that he dared to argue  
with her. "Are you out of your mind? Don't go visiting my intentions, Jubal, not unless  
you want more trouble than is good for you."

Early should have known better. Patience brings opportunities. Spring will come around  
soon enough. Long days where boys and dogs run free. And retrievers can never resist  
food bribery.

Except now spring will find them elsewhere. How many more moves before he wakes up  
one day to find his mother has left without him? Will she cry, just a little bit, when she  
waves goodbye for the last time? Early won't. Early doesn't cry.

Gathering himself, Early tries again, pulling steadily against the resistance. To his  
surprise his tongue gradually peels free, feeling twice its usual size - which makes no  
sense at all because several layers of it are clearly staying behind. It flops around on his  
bottom lip for a moment before he manages to convince it to return to its usual spot. The  
muscles at the back of his throat ache and he can't really tell where his tongue ends and  
the rest of his mouth begins; everything is tingling so hard.

"Jubal!" His mother's furious tone is matched by the heavy stomp of her feet up the  
steps.

Early stiffens, frozen to the spot. He wants to curse at the unfairness – the sacrifice of  
blood and flesh in vain. No rush of knowledge or pleasure. Just bitter disappointment. A  
small voice in his head taunts him -  'Does that seem right to you?'

"Look at me when I talk to you Jubal! I told you to stay inside."

Early can't even smile; his whole face feels unnaturally immobile from the ordeal. No  
way is he talking his way out of this one.

 


End file.
